Seiichi Yukimura (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _seiichi) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} prince_academy,@ 2004-07-21 20:41:00 |
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RP log - Yukimura, Atobe
Summary: Yukimura reminisces as he goes through old sketches.
Warning: AtoYuki, PG 13
Once in a while, Yukimura liked to go through his old sketchbooks to see how much he has progressed and to also reflect on the past. His sketchbooks contained pictures from everyday life and the people that he's met. They were like Yanagi's mental observations applied on paper with a pencil. He didn't keep journals; these sketchbooks were enough to convey his feelings and thoughts, and to hold his memories. Today, he found himself staring at the black, hardcover sketchbook with the gilded lining, running his fingers over the smooth surface. This one held memories like the rest but this one was especially important.
He opened the cover carefully and flipped through the first few blank pages (he liked to do that to keep the inside cover clean), and stopped when he saw the first picture. It was a sketchy portrait of Keigo Atobe dated at the beginning of his second year, titled "First Impression". Yukimura closed his eyes, as if remembering the boy's stubborn chin, the cocky smirk, the proud nose, and the intense eyes that bore through you and judged you of your worth, captured on paper. This was the first picture of the subject that he grew to love.
He flipped a few more pages, reminiscing of the moments that were imprinted on the white pages. He looked fondly at the pictures until he got to one particular picture. Yukimura's eyes widened as memories of that day poured back...
It was the coldest time in Ireland; the trees were covered with the gauze of morning frost and the ground was blanketed by the white snow of February. Despite the chilling temperature, one boy leaned on his elbow, lying on a piece of black cloth and posed naked with a drape over his abdomen while the other boy tried to reproduce the shadow and highlights of his model.
"Blimey..." Atobe grumbled as he did his best to stay controlled and straight. He rarely used slang, unless he was comfortable and around his mates. Or he was really irritated. "It's flippin' cold." His ice blue eyes turned to eye Yukimura pointedly. "Are you finished creating perfection yet?"
Yukimura looked up from his sketching and gave Atobe an almost impish smile. "It wouldn't be perfection if it only took an hour to complete, now would it?" Tucking a few strands of silky, blue curls behind his ear, Yukimura continued layering in the darker areas. He looked up again and studied the boy intently. His eyes skimmed over exposed skin a bit darker than his own and traced up his legs, his torso, to his face. Grey met blue as their eyes locked. "Be a bit more patient, Keigo. You can't rush -- as you so eloquently put it -- 'perfection'." He gave his classmate a smile and went back to his shading. He had completed the outline of Atobe's inclined figure and now he's just fleshing out the form of his body, adding three-dimensionality to an otherwise flat surface. He meticulously controlled his pressure because he wanted to capture the soft highlights of the natural white light on skin and the smooth blending of hues. He wanted this to be like a Renaissance painting, one that took time and care to perfect, and not an Impressionist painting where mood is emphasized. Besides, he's already done several mood-based sketches of Atobe.
Atobe arched an eyebrow as he watched Yukimura draw out of the corner of his eye. Really, the other was quite promising. Atobe liked a lot of his pieces... Though that was partially because they were of his great self, he mused. He silently turned back to the wall, easing his tensed muscles that were all wound up from the cold. "Would you fancy getting a meal after this?"
"Mmm that would be nice," Yukimura murmured without stopping, only occasionally glancing up to compare his sketch with the model and to observe more closely. Like his teacher said, art is 70% observation and 30% application. Anyone with the skills to sketch can produce decent work but those who have perceptive eyes will truly capture the essence of their subject.
Yukimura got out of his seat and walked a few paces to observe his sketch from a distance to pick out the mistakes. He's done this a couple of times, flickering his eyes back and forth between model and sketch, and this time he's finally satisfied with the results. He let a brilliant smile spread across his lips and regarded Atobe with twinkling eyes of mirth. "You can move now, I'm finally finished." Yukimura was pleased; he was definitely pleased with the end result. He was able to transfer the form of Atobe onto paper while still retaining details and texture. This was probably his best sketch yet, he mused. He took the paper off the easel and took it over to Atobe.
"Here, have I achieved perfection yet?"
Atobe finally moved, stretching his neck and back, bones softly cracking and muscles moving beneath his skin. He raises his head to see, looking at the picture. Very nice. The shading was beautiful. Atobe sort of smirked at the picture.
"Ahhn. It is quite nice, but not perfect like I am. There is nothing like the real thing."
Yukimura chuckled. "Ahh I guess there isn't. An illusion is only an illusion after all. Even if the illusion is beautiful, I would still prefer the beauty of the original."
He held out his hands to retrieve the sketch. "But I thank you for your comments and your agreeing to model for me." He walked over to his sketchbook and clipped it inside after dating the picture. He turned around and let his eyes indulge on Atobe's smooth skin. While he was sketching, he concentrated on reproducing the shape, the hue, the texture, but now he can fully appreciate the other's physical beauty. He really shouldn't be staring since it was rude, but he thought Atobe probably attracted more than enough stares that he wouldn't be disturbed by it.
Atobe raised an arm and rested the elbow on the side of the couch and then leaned his cheek onto his fist. The beauty of the original? Hm. He did not bother getting up to get dressed like he usually did. He was content to just sit there.
Yukimura felt a blush creeping up his cheeks as he realized that Atobe was still sitting there naked with only a drape. He turned to the side, wavy curls covering his crimson-tinged face. "You should get dressed now if you're still up for that meal..." he trailed off in embarrassment. He was just appreciating beauty like how one would appreciate a painting at the art gallery, so why is he feeling uncomfortable now? Perhaps it was the way Atobe let him indulge, still undressed, or perhaps it was the way he started to react to appreciating Atobe's beauty. Whatever it was, it made Yukimura fidget.
Atobe let his smirk widen, spreading across his face. His eyes bore right through Yukimura. "I am quite comfortable here, Seiichi."
Blink. Yukimura looked back at Atobe with a surprised expression. "But Keigo aren't you cold? I mean, I wouldn't want my model to suffer any damage due to prolonged exposure..." He felt nervous being watched so intensely by those eyes, as if they could pierce through him and see his deepest secrets. Even though Atobe was comfortable, it was at the expense of Yukimura.
Hrm. Perhaps he had gone too far. Atobe tilted his head down and closed his eyes, though still smiling. "Fine. I'll get dressed." He raised his head to look for his clothes.
Yukimura was already a step ahead of him as he retrieved Atobe's clothes and walked over to hand it to the other boy. "Here, get dressed so we can go eat some food. Sketching can take quite a bit out of you."
Chance.
In a swift moment, Atobe reached out. But instead of taking his clothes, he grabbed Yukimura's wrist and drew him close. "Perhaps you should lie down and rest, love." He was a bit surprised at himself, speaking in a low and soft voice. This was not the first time he had made a move on Yukimura, but it was the first time he was being forceful and less subtle.
Atobe's clothes fell to the floor. Breath catching as the other pulled on his wrist, Yukimura tried to calm down his speeding heart. He was so close to Atobe's face that he could feel his breath blowing on his own cheeks. He began to take deep breaths when Atobe started speaking. Oh Gott that voice. Atobe had made passes at Yukimura before but he just humored the other in jest. But now, butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his eyes darkened to a smoldering grey, slightly veiled by feathery lashes. He managed to whisper in a soft, husky voice, "Perhaps I should..."
Okay. That was better. Atobe's smile widened again. "Brilliant," he whispered, pulling Yukimura closer to brush his lips across the other's. Yukimura's lips were soft, like silk. He finally released the wrist, only to take the other's hand in his and entwine their fingers together.
Yukimura didn't know if it were the lighting or the angle but Atobe looked more magnificent than before and he couldn't resist anymore. When Atobe's lips brushed against his, he involuntarily shuddered as excitement jolted through his body at the touch. Yukimura wrapped his other arm around Atobe's neck and deepened the kiss, sucking gently on his bottom lips.
Atobe's free arm moved to wrap around Yukimura's waist. That was the okay he had been waiting for, and his grip tightens. He drew the other closer, finally rising to his feet to get a better angle. His tongue moved out to play on Yukimura's lips, just asking for permission before moving in.
Yukimura parted lips and moaned softly when Atobe slipped his tongue in. His hands started moving across Atobe's bare skin. Oh it felt smooth and so firm. He stopped when he realized that he still had his winter uniform on and let out a whimper. He was very overdressed for the occasion.
Do not worry, poor Yukimura. Atobe would fix that soon enough. He loved the feeling of those hands kneading his skin... they were so soft, yet firm in their touches. Once he broke the kiss -he need to for air- he licked his lips and stared hard at his beautiful companion. "Seiichi," he murmured, unclasping his hand from the other's and bringing it up to play with the soft strands of blue hair. "It is quite unfair for me to have no clothes while you do."
An impish smile slowly crept onto Yukimura's lips. "Well you'll have to help me remove them, then." His eyes glinted the same way when he faced off with an opponent across the net; the challenge was issued.
Having overcome his initial shyness, Yukimura now trembled with excitement and longing. He felt hot and trapped underneath the many layers of clothing compared to Atobe's nakedness. He couldn't wait until those hands stripped him layer from layer until he is fully exposed to their titillating touches. He moaned impatiently and tugged at Atobe's neck, pulling him down to a passionate kiss. Their tongues fought for dominance and they switched between nipping and playful biting. Yukimura broke the kiss, panting heavily, and looked at Atobe, the greys of his eyes swirled and entwined like smoke, glazed with lust.
Those eyes. Atobe felt as if he could get lost in them. Without a word, his hands reached down and began sliding Yukimura out of the vest. And after that was done, he unbuttoned the shirt. While doing this, he kept placing butterfly kisses along Yukimura's face and neck.
Clothes pooled at Yukimura's feet and he felt Atobe's hands on him, touching, rubbing, feeling. Although the cold air nipped at his now exposed skin, his body began to warm up again under the other boy's touch, reacting to the pleasure. It felt so good to be touched like this. He let out a satisfied sigh as he felt kisses on his neck, and gasped when lips brushed over sensitive spots.
Atobe pressed kiss after kiss to that fair skin, loving every moment. Yukimura was so beautiful and strong, and Atobe felt that he would be the perfect match for him. After several bouts of kissing and nipping, he finally pulled back to look at the other second year. "Hn," he murmurred, catching the boy and slowly dipping him against the couch. "Perhaps now is the perfect time for you to obtain perfection."
He had obtained perfection but lost it as well. Yukimura shut the sketchbook and placed it back on his shelf. In the end, he just was not good enough for perfection. He wondered wryly if the Masters who courted perfection and created pieces of flawless proportion, perspective, and chiaroscuro ever experienced the same type of rejection.
Summary: Yukimura reminisces as he goes through old sketches.
Warning: AtoYuki, PG 13
Once in a while, Yukimura liked to go through his old sketchbooks to see how much he has progressed and to also reflect on the past. His sketchbooks contained pictures from everyday life and the people that he's met. They were like Yanagi's mental observations applied on paper with a pencil. He didn't keep journals; these sketchbooks were enough to convey his feelings and thoughts, and to hold his memories. Today, he found himself staring at the black, hardcover sketchbook with the gilded lining, running his fingers over the smooth surface. This one held memories like the rest but this one was especially important.
He opened the cover carefully and flipped through the first few blank pages (he liked to do that to keep the inside cover clean), and stopped when he saw the first picture. It was a sketchy portrait of Keigo Atobe dated at the beginning of his second year, titled "First Impression". Yukimura closed his eyes, as if remembering the boy's stubborn chin, the cocky smirk, the proud nose, and the intense eyes that bore through you and judged you of your worth, captured on paper. This was the first picture of the subject that he grew to love.
He flipped a few more pages, reminiscing of the moments that were imprinted on the white pages. He looked fondly at the pictures until he got to one particular picture. Yukimura's eyes widened as memories of that day poured back...
It was the coldest time in Ireland; the trees were covered with the gauze of morning frost and the ground was blanketed by the white snow of February. Despite the chilling temperature, one boy leaned on his elbow, lying on a piece of black cloth and posed naked with a drape over his abdomen while the other boy tried to reproduce the shadow and highlights of his model.
"Blimey..." Atobe grumbled as he did his best to stay controlled and straight. He rarely used slang, unless he was comfortable and around his mates. Or he was really irritated. "It's flippin' cold." His ice blue eyes turned to eye Yukimura pointedly. "Are you finished creating perfection yet?"
Yukimura looked up from his sketching and gave Atobe an almost impish smile. "It wouldn't be perfection if it only took an hour to complete, now would it?" Tucking a few strands of silky, blue curls behind his ear, Yukimura continued layering in the darker areas. He looked up again and studied the boy intently. His eyes skimmed over exposed skin a bit darker than his own and traced up his legs, his torso, to his face. Grey met blue as their eyes locked. "Be a bit more patient, Keigo. You can't rush -- as you so eloquently put it -- 'perfection'." He gave his classmate a smile and went back to his shading. He had completed the outline of Atobe's inclined figure and now he's just fleshing out the form of his body, adding three-dimensionality to an otherwise flat surface. He meticulously controlled his pressure because he wanted to capture the soft highlights of the natural white light on skin and the smooth blending of hues. He wanted this to be like a Renaissance painting, one that took time and care to perfect, and not an Impressionist painting where mood is emphasized. Besides, he's already done several mood-based sketches of Atobe.
Atobe arched an eyebrow as he watched Yukimura draw out of the corner of his eye. Really, the other was quite promising. Atobe liked a lot of his pieces... Though that was partially because they were of his great self, he mused. He silently turned back to the wall, easing his tensed muscles that were all wound up from the cold. "Would you fancy getting a meal after this?"
"Mmm that would be nice," Yukimura murmured without stopping, only occasionally glancing up to compare his sketch with the model and to observe more closely. Like his teacher said, art is 70% observation and 30% application. Anyone with the skills to sketch can produce decent work but those who have perceptive eyes will truly capture the essence of their subject.
Yukimura got out of his seat and walked a few paces to observe his sketch from a distance to pick out the mistakes. He's done this a couple of times, flickering his eyes back and forth between model and sketch, and this time he's finally satisfied with the results. He let a brilliant smile spread across his lips and regarded Atobe with twinkling eyes of mirth. "You can move now, I'm finally finished." Yukimura was pleased; he was definitely pleased with the end result. He was able to transfer the form of Atobe onto paper while still retaining details and texture. This was probably his best sketch yet, he mused. He took the paper off the easel and took it over to Atobe.
"Here, have I achieved perfection yet?"
Atobe finally moved, stretching his neck and back, bones softly cracking and muscles moving beneath his skin. He raises his head to see, looking at the picture. Very nice. The shading was beautiful. Atobe sort of smirked at the picture.
"Ahhn. It is quite nice, but not perfect like I am. There is nothing like the real thing."
Yukimura chuckled. "Ahh I guess there isn't. An illusion is only an illusion after all. Even if the illusion is beautiful, I would still prefer the beauty of the original."
He held out his hands to retrieve the sketch. "But I thank you for your comments and your agreeing to model for me." He walked over to his sketchbook and clipped it inside after dating the picture. He turned around and let his eyes indulge on Atobe's smooth skin. While he was sketching, he concentrated on reproducing the shape, the hue, the texture, but now he can fully appreciate the other's physical beauty. He really shouldn't be staring since it was rude, but he thought Atobe probably attracted more than enough stares that he wouldn't be disturbed by it.
Atobe raised an arm and rested the elbow on the side of the couch and then leaned his cheek onto his fist. The beauty of the original? Hm. He did not bother getting up to get dressed like he usually did. He was content to just sit there.
Yukimura felt a blush creeping up his cheeks as he realized that Atobe was still sitting there naked with only a drape. He turned to the side, wavy curls covering his crimson-tinged face. "You should get dressed now if you're still up for that meal..." he trailed off in embarrassment. He was just appreciating beauty like how one would appreciate a painting at the art gallery, so why is he feeling uncomfortable now? Perhaps it was the way Atobe let him indulge, still undressed, or perhaps it was the way he started to react to appreciating Atobe's beauty. Whatever it was, it made Yukimura fidget.
Atobe let his smirk widen, spreading across his face. His eyes bore right through Yukimura. "I am quite comfortable here, Seiichi."
Blink. Yukimura looked back at Atobe with a surprised expression. "But Keigo aren't you cold? I mean, I wouldn't want my model to suffer any damage due to prolonged exposure..." He felt nervous being watched so intensely by those eyes, as if they could pierce through him and see his deepest secrets. Even though Atobe was comfortable, it was at the expense of Yukimura.
Hrm. Perhaps he had gone too far. Atobe tilted his head down and closed his eyes, though still smiling. "Fine. I'll get dressed." He raised his head to look for his clothes.
Yukimura was already a step ahead of him as he retrieved Atobe's clothes and walked over to hand it to the other boy. "Here, get dressed so we can go eat some food. Sketching can take quite a bit out of you."
Chance.
In a swift moment, Atobe reached out. But instead of taking his clothes, he grabbed Yukimura's wrist and drew him close. "Perhaps you should lie down and rest, love." He was a bit surprised at himself, speaking in a low and soft voice. This was not the first time he had made a move on Yukimura, but it was the first time he was being forceful and less subtle.
Atobe's clothes fell to the floor. Breath catching as the other pulled on his wrist, Yukimura tried to calm down his speeding heart. He was so close to Atobe's face that he could feel his breath blowing on his own cheeks. He began to take deep breaths when Atobe started speaking. Oh Gott that voice. Atobe had made passes at Yukimura before but he just humored the other in jest. But now, butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his eyes darkened to a smoldering grey, slightly veiled by feathery lashes. He managed to whisper in a soft, husky voice, "Perhaps I should..."
Okay. That was better. Atobe's smile widened again. "Brilliant," he whispered, pulling Yukimura closer to brush his lips across the other's. Yukimura's lips were soft, like silk. He finally released the wrist, only to take the other's hand in his and entwine their fingers together.
Yukimura didn't know if it were the lighting or the angle but Atobe looked more magnificent than before and he couldn't resist anymore. When Atobe's lips brushed against his, he involuntarily shuddered as excitement jolted through his body at the touch. Yukimura wrapped his other arm around Atobe's neck and deepened the kiss, sucking gently on his bottom lips.
Atobe's free arm moved to wrap around Yukimura's waist. That was the okay he had been waiting for, and his grip tightens. He drew the other closer, finally rising to his feet to get a better angle. His tongue moved out to play on Yukimura's lips, just asking for permission before moving in.
Yukimura parted lips and moaned softly when Atobe slipped his tongue in. His hands started moving across Atobe's bare skin. Oh it felt smooth and so firm. He stopped when he realized that he still had his winter uniform on and let out a whimper. He was very overdressed for the occasion.
Do not worry, poor Yukimura. Atobe would fix that soon enough. He loved the feeling of those hands kneading his skin... they were so soft, yet firm in their touches. Once he broke the kiss -he need to for air- he licked his lips and stared hard at his beautiful companion. "Seiichi," he murmured, unclasping his hand from the other's and bringing it up to play with the soft strands of blue hair. "It is quite unfair for me to have no clothes while you do."
An impish smile slowly crept onto Yukimura's lips. "Well you'll have to help me remove them, then." His eyes glinted the same way when he faced off with an opponent across the net; the challenge was issued.
Having overcome his initial shyness, Yukimura now trembled with excitement and longing. He felt hot and trapped underneath the many layers of clothing compared to Atobe's nakedness. He couldn't wait until those hands stripped him layer from layer until he is fully exposed to their titillating touches. He moaned impatiently and tugged at Atobe's neck, pulling him down to a passionate kiss. Their tongues fought for dominance and they switched between nipping and playful biting. Yukimura broke the kiss, panting heavily, and looked at Atobe, the greys of his eyes swirled and entwined like smoke, glazed with lust.
Those eyes. Atobe felt as if he could get lost in them. Without a word, his hands reached down and began sliding Yukimura out of the vest. And after that was done, he unbuttoned the shirt. While doing this, he kept placing butterfly kisses along Yukimura's face and neck.
Clothes pooled at Yukimura's feet and he felt Atobe's hands on him, touching, rubbing, feeling. Although the cold air nipped at his now exposed skin, his body began to warm up again under the other boy's touch, reacting to the pleasure. It felt so good to be touched like this. He let out a satisfied sigh as he felt kisses on his neck, and gasped when lips brushed over sensitive spots.
Atobe pressed kiss after kiss to that fair skin, loving every moment. Yukimura was so beautiful and strong, and Atobe felt that he would be the perfect match for him. After several bouts of kissing and nipping, he finally pulled back to look at the other second year. "Hn," he murmurred, catching the boy and slowly dipping him against the couch. "Perhaps now is the perfect time for you to obtain perfection."
He had obtained perfection but lost it as well. Yukimura shut the sketchbook and placed it back on his shelf. In the end, he just was not good enough for perfection. He wondered wryly if the Masters who courted perfection and created pieces of flawless proportion, perspective, and chiaroscuro ever experienced the same type of rejection.
